


how to make: a cat fucker

by tragakes (lejf)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Crack, Kinda beastiality i guess, M/M, PWP, ears and tail, grimmjow's a neko thing or whatever, lotta vulgarity, you know exactly what's in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lejf/pseuds/tragakes
Summary: “Um,” Ichigo said. Those were paws, too. Clawed black paws. Ichigo bet his left ball that if he looked, he’d see a tail hanging out the window. “Where are your pants?”“They ran away,” Grimmjow said. “Happens.”





	how to make: a cat fucker

**Author's Note:**

> case of major potty mouth

“Fuck, how do you always manage to look so ugly?”

“Talent,” Ichigo groaned into his pillow, rolling over and squinting at the figure perched on the end of his bed.Grimmjow’s dumb face in the morning was becoming a familiar lunacy. “Keeps nosy shitheads like you away.”

“With the number of ‘nosy shitheads’ in your life, somehow I don’t think your talent’s working.”

Ichigo never signed up to be harassed daily like this. His father barrelling in at the ass-crack of dawn was routine enough, but Grimmjow forcing his way through the window… oh, who was he kidding. Every Shinigami, Quincy, Visored, Arrancar, and other misplaced bastard under the sun broke in through his window. Maybe he should’ve put a cat-flap in it for easy access.

Wait— “Since you’re a panther and everything, does that mean you’re part cat?” Grimmjow as a cat? He’d be a black cat like Yoruichi — just with balls. Transforming back naked. He’d get an exhibitionist streak in no time.

“Compare me to Yoruichi again— “ How did he know Ichigo’s mind went to Yoruichi? Probably because there was literally no other cat in their lives, “—and I’ll cut your dick off in your sleep.”

“I knew you wanted to touch my dick when I’m asleep.”

“Shut the fuck up, you degenerate.” Grimmjow shifted in his squat. Then his eyebrows furrowed as if he was legitimately thinking about Ichigo’s nonsense question. “We’re not— did Ulquiorra look part _bat_ to you?”

“Batty,” he replied on reflex. “Actually, no. He was the sanest out of all of you.” 

“He’s not like a bat, so why would I be like a cat? Are you deranged?”

It baffled Ichigo that Grimmjow didn’t see it. “You literally crawl in through my window _every morning_ and now you’re sitting at the edge of my bed expecting attention. And don’t forget _fish_. Everytime there’s fish you slurp it right up.” It was disturbing, really, how Grimmjow ate sashimi. He bypassed any sort of condiments like soy sauce or wasabi or ginger and just inhaled it.

“Everyone comes through your window,” Grimmjow scowled. Of course he avoided the fish part.

“Not every _day_. How dense are you?” Ichigo raised a hand towards Grimmjow theatrically. “I swear I can feel your gravity.”

Grimmjow pulled that constipated expression that meant he was thinking again. “You’re saying you’re attracted to me?”

Ichigo let his hand flop back down. “I’m calling you _dense_. Dense things have a gravitational pull. Grimmjow, I know you never had an education, but this is just kind of sad.”

“Yeah and you’re fuckin’ seventh in a class of idiots.”

“How do you know my class rankings?” Oh god, Grimmjow must’ve broken into their school. “Holy fuck. Do you actually have nothing better to do than to stalk me?”

“I don’t _stalk_ you. You flatter yourself, balloon-head.”

“Look,” Ichigo said, seriously, “you’re a cat. Cats stick to people they annoy the shit out of.”

“You have some weird obsession,” Grimmjow said. “What, you some cat fucker or something?”

“Of course not,” Ichigo scoffed, and then his father kicked down the door and they all argued about something else instead. 

*

Ichigo, unashamedly, bought catnip. Fuck you, Grimmjow. He’d prove that Grimmjow was just a vulgar and angry version of a housecat. It wouldn’t be so hard, because panthers were basically giant cats. Although … panthers weren’t native to Japan. They were only kept in _zoos_. Where the hell did Grimmjow even get the form of a panther from?

This was bullshit. It really was. What else was also bullshit was the fact that Ichigo had spent an hour putting his hands into plants and picking out the right catnip and still had homework desperately due tonight. He dumped the catnip somewhere downstairs, stashing it for the right moment, told himself that it’d been a productive use of time, and then sat down and lamented. He really didn’t know how to do maths. 

Two hours and an empty worksheet later he caved and had Uryu on the line. “I’ll make you miso soup,” he bribed.

“You don’t know how to cook,” Uryu replied.

“You don’t know that.” Ichigo knew how to cook. He just didn’t, because his tiny sisters hogged the kitchen. And also because no one ate the food when he did. “Fine– you’ll get the chance to teach me and feel superior and egotistical.”

“I already know I’m superior.” Was it possible for Uryu’s voice to get more dry? He could single-handedly cause a mass drought across Japan. “Academically, at least.”

Ichigo’s tone turned accusing. “It’s because I’m not a girl that you won’t help me, isn’t it?”

“First come, first serve. Five other people already called me for help with this worksheet.”

“We saved the world together, Uryu. Don’t I mean more to you than this?”

“You have to study if you want to improve your grades. You’ll play dumb until I give up and just give you the answers.”

“That’s a lie,” Ichigo lied. “Didn’t Orihime ask you just today to help her and you said yes?”

“I’m more… chivalrous to women.” 

“You can’t tell me it’s the tits.” Ichigo started to pace the room. “Remember that time we got smashed and you asked me to suck your dick?”

“That never happened.”

“How about when I said no and then you asked to suck mine?”

“That. Never. Happened.”

“You’re in denial! Uryu, accept it- I’ll stop bringing it up if you help me with maths.”

Uryu hung up.

Ichigo’s thumbs were flying across the phone keypad in no time: _fuk u uryu help me or ill never let u suck me off ever_

_Go die._ was the succinct reply.

Ichigo lobbed the phone at the wall (gently, though, no damaging the goods) and then fell back onto his bed, defeated. He stared up at the ceiling and wallowed a little. Why did Uryu have to be like this? He’d have to get up eventually, though, because Kurosaki Ichigo never gave up. Get up, Ichigo!

He did, thinking about maths, and then paused. Was he dreaming? That wasn’t Grimmjow outside his window, was it?

It fucking _was_. Just to check, Ichigo flipped him off. Grimmjow slammed open the window and shoved a middle finger in his face in reply. “Aren’t you supposed to respect your elders?” Grimmjow demanded, all aggression. God, Grimmjow was just a big ball of aggression all the time. If Ichigo could convert anger into clean energy he’d have Grimmjow saving the whole world.

“Aren’t _elders_ not supposed to go crawling into teenagers’ rooms at night?” 

Ichigo pulled a double-take when Grimmjow didn’t reply. He remained perched there in a half-entering-Ichigo’s-room pose, legs all exposed skin, eyes blown wide. And he had two fluffy ears out the side of his head, green and blue and soft-looking. 

“Um,” Ichigo said. Those were paws, too. Clawed black paws. Ichigo bet his left ball that if he looked, he’d see a tail hanging out the window. “Where are your pants?”

“They ran away,” Grimmjow said. “Happens.” His eyes were definitely odd. Until now Ichigo hadn’t realised they weren’t usually dilated this wide, their pupils huge and dark. “What’s that smell?”

“You didn’t take a shit on my windowsill, did you?”

“One of these days I’m gonna stick my hand down your throat and rearrange your fucking insides.”

“That wasn’t a no.” Ichigo grabbed Grimmjow by one pale elbow, mindful of the gut-slashing claws, hauled him through, and then looked over his windowsill in alarm. “Oh, good,” he said, with the reassurance that at least Grimmjow wasn’t a pigeon — just was he was pulled back by the shoulders.

“You smell nice,” Grimmjow said. He pushed his warm head over Ichigo’s shoulder, and his claws dug their sharp points in. How did he manage to make a compliment sound so threatening?

“Can you wear _pants_?” Ichigo hissed. “If my dad comes in I really don’t want to explain why your bare ass is on my bed.”

“I wanna sniff you to death. Pants are awful. Hey, ever tried shoving pants over a tail?”

“You’re wearing _underwear_. Pants aren’t a huge step up.” Ichigo made the mistake of looking and got an eye full of Grimmjow scowling in a loose shirt, claws like carving scythes, fur like shadowy down, and so much exposed skin in the form of a slightly bent knee and toned thighs. 

“I had to cut a hole in them. I’m not gonna ruin a pair of good pants.”

“You know what,” Ichigo said, and grabbed a pair of trousers that he’d left lying around courtesy of classic teenager messiness. Then he clasped Grimmjow’s ankle in a shackle-like grip and attempted Mission: Attach Pants from there. 

He’d grossly miscalculated, because Grimmjow struggled exactly like a squirming cat and slashed a claw right through his pillow. Feathers everywhere. “You-“ Ichigo tried to grab the other kicking foot, which oddly wasn’t a paw and instead just a flesh and skin foot, weirdly vulnerable and human-looking — and the toes even curled once he had both feet arrested in two hands. “Asshole! You can’t come streaking into my room and then tear things up!”

“Clearly I can, and clearly you’re doing a piss-poor job of stopping me!” 

Ichigo was about to let loose a whole string of colourful cusses when a heavy knock on his closed door froze them both. 

“Ichigo?” his father’s voice asked. “What’s all the noise?”

It kind of looked like Ichigo was _removing_ Grimmjow’s pants. He felt sweat bead on his forehead. “Nothing— just taking my anger out from homework. You know.”

“Use protection!” his father singsonged. His footsteps moved away.

Waiting for a reaction, Ichigo stared blankly at Grimmjow, whose ankles he still had held up and a single trouser leg tangled up one. 

“Don’t worry. I’m clean,” Grimmjow said. Ichigo was deeply tempted to fly-kick Grimmjow out the window, and Grimmjow’s tail twitched as though in response to the danger. “Urahara would have my ass in the non-kinky way if I got some sort of disease.”

“…You’d let Urahara have your ass?”

“Fuck no.” Grimmjow shifted, and Ichigo used the opportunity to let go of his ankles and pull the pants up more. Grimmjow gave an appropriately disgusted expression in response by emoting with his entire body. His tail pulled closer towards him, his face scrunched up, and his ears canted back. It was tooth-rottingly cute. “I don’t want the pants,” he whined.

“These are mine. You won’t care about holes in mine, right?” Clearly that was the way to go, because Grimmjow stopped kicking as vehemently and let Ichigo dress him. The back of Ichigo’s hands kept brushing Grimmjow’s skin, and oh, fuck, he could see that soft inner part of Grimmjow’s leg, at the very top of his thigh, just past all the muscle. It looked grippable and bruisable — markable. 

In truth, the entire sight was just too suggestive. Grimmjow was _on his bed_ with his stupid lithe legs and idiotic mouth. Ichigo wasn’t any cat fucker, but the ears and the tail and the fur that reached just to his elbows seemed too _soft_ and seemed to beg for touch.

Ichigo needed to get Grimmjow dressed and out, quickly. So he could frustratedly jack off. It seemed to happen a lot when Grimmjow was concerned. 

“Lift your hips,” Ichigo ordered, and Grimmjow rolled over with a plop instead, exposing the curve of his ass that was hugged by cloth. The tail was nestled just at the base of his spine, snowy white. Ichigo swallowed. Around the hole that’d been cut for it, he could see the blush of Grimmjow’s skin. “Where’d this come from anyway?” he asked, wrapping his steady fingers around that silky fur and stroking.

The full-bodied shiver wasn’t really an answer, but damn if it didn’t capture all his attention. “It’s just- _aah_ -!” This time Ichigo applied more pressure. Even if the roof caved in, he wouldn’t have stopped. “My resurrección— _fuck_ — partial.”

He leaned over and rubbed the base of Grimmjow’s ears, too. “To prove that you weren’t a cat? I don’t know how to break it to you, man, but…”

Using his thumb, he stroked the underside of Grimmjow’s tail. Grimmjow’s exhale was breathy and shaky, and he tilted his hips slightly to push into Ichigo’s touch. Oh, fuck, it was like he was offering his ass up for Ichigo’s grasp. Ichigo’s dick was awake in an instant.

What did he have to lose? He tugged down the trousers he’d so painstakingly struggled with and sat on the back of Grimmjow’s thighs, all the while still stroking Grimmjow’s tail. It wrapped around his fingers as he played with it and he tried to find the right amount of pressure, the perfect place to make Grimmjow pant. 

Ichigo’s voice dropped about one whole octave. “You’re mewling like a real kitty right now.”

Grimmjow had his face buried in his arms. Muffled, “Fuck- _ah-_ off.“

“Shy?” Ichigo’s grin was all teeth, and he leaned over Grimmjow so he could bury his face in the soft downy curve of his ear and bed of blue hair. “Smell like you’ve stolen my shampoo,” he murmured. Grimmjow didn’t respond, but maybe because they were practically posed in fucking, Ichigo’s front pressed almost entirely to Grimmjow’s back, fondling his tail, his softness. 

He drew back, stopped to stare, and brushed over that forbidden curve between Grimmjow’s thighs. He ran his thumb in a circle there, that creamy peach-shade point, vulnerable where a blade would meet no resistance sliding in. 

“Hey.” Grimmjow’s voice was a little hoarse. “Here.” He grabbed Ichigo’s wrist — pushy bastard — and guided his hand to a spot on his tail, right at the base, where it morphed into normal skin. Ichigo pushed against that point and the reaction was instantaneous. 

He didn’t know Grimmjow was even capable of producing such timid little moans from his throat, exhales like panting and his whole body drawn tight. “ _Ah_ ,” the Arrancar mewled under Ichigo’s touch. 

“Hope you’re not attached to these,” Ichigo said, hooking a finger into the hole made in Grimmjow’s underwear. Then, in one smooth movement, he ripped it apart. There was Grimmjow’s entrance exposed, small and pink and somehow glistening with moisture. He was wet? 

“What–“ Grimmjow managed, before Ichigo was sinking his index finger into the velvet heat of his insides. Whatever supernatural element was at play, Ichigo welcomed it. And whatever Grimmjow’s shock, in a heartbeat he was responding, moaning and pushing back into Ichigo’s finger like he was in heat.

The next few moments were a blur, Ichigo shoving more fingers into Grimmjow’s hot tight hole while rubbing his thumb over that spot at the base of his tail as the room filled with squelching and panting. Ichigo undid his trouser buttons with one hand — it was a talent — and pressed his cock up by the curve of Grimmjow’s ass, just resting there as he admired.

Grimmjow against the bed: head turned sideways, the sweep of his jaw like the curve of a claw in the general momentum of the ridge of his nose and the wing of his eye markings that flowed into the points of his ears, undeniably impish, blue and green and black and white all intricately layered like the patterns in a marble. There was the pale peach-orange of his skin and the red of his exposed entrances — his open mouth, the gleam of fangs, and pink wrapped around Ichigo’s fingers. 

Of course he was a panther. Grimmjow was exotic danger incarnate, and that tugged at some primal core in Ichigo that just wanted to _possess_. And so possess he did, entering in slowly, plastering his whole front to Grimmjow’s back, tucking his nose in that blue hair, kissing up his neck to the soft fur of his ear that made his dick twitch. No one else had _fur_ , and there was solid evidence that this was _Grimmjow_ he was fucking. This was Grimmjow, his formidable and annoying opponent, that he was pushing his dick into, wet and panting and eager beneath him, softly cussing Ichigo out under his breath. 

“Fuck, huh?” Ichigo breathed back, thrusting inwards. It made Grimmjow cry out, his breath caught half-way out his throat so it came out as empty air and felt so damn _genuine_ that Ichigo thrust just as hard again. He would milk out those noises from Grimmjow by pounding his prostrate, by mouthing the downy blue of his ear and by grabbing his shoulders in an iron grip to keep him down and keep him pliant as Ichigo fucked him into pleasure and back. 

The bed wouldn’t stop thudding against the wall with every thrust. Ichigo shoved his fingers into Grimmjow’s mouth and felt a rough tongue lave itself over them, and felt the prick of sharp teeth that didn’t draw blood. He didn’t stop thinking about how Grimmjow said he was a virgin, he didn’t stop thinking about how tight Grimmjow was, nor the way his ass clenched around him, nor the blush he could see spreading all the way to his neck. 

“Baby I’m not gonna be able to keep this up for long,” Ichigo said, and heard a soft stilted laughter in return, either at the endearment or at something else. Ichigo didn’t know where his words came from. He just- _thought_ things and said things during sex. 

“Stamin- _ah-_ problem?” Even with Ichigo’s cock spreading him open, Grimmjow somehow managed to be mocking. 

“No,” Ichigo said, and braced himself to thrust harder, faster, have his pelvis meet Grimmjow’s ass with obscenely loud noises every time as he drove himself deeper. “It’s because you’re fucking _hot_ , Grimmjow. God, I’ve wanted to fuck you since I saw you. You and your-”

“ _Aah_ -“ He saw Grimmjow’s claws tighten somewhere in his bedsheets.

“-open damn shirt, wanted to push you down and then shove my dick in your mouth, or grab you by that stupid tail and have you ride my dick like you were panting for it–“

Ears tipped back. Tail thrashed. 

“–didn’t know you got _wet_.” Ichigo pressed into Grimmjow and held himself there, unmoving, just letting Grimmjow feel the length of him. He was so close to coming that moving anymore would push him over the edge. Every time Ichigo pulsed or flexed his dick, Grimmjow clenched in reply. “Did you ever get wet fighting me? Did you ever wish you’d cut my clothes open and _accidentally_ let my dick slip into you? ‘Cuz I can tell you— I’ve been hard fighting you, seeing you so bloody with those claws of yours–“

A sudden rippling around him and the softest _oh_ was all the notice he got that Grimmjow was coming. “ _Yeah_ ,” Grimmjow panted, sounding dazed, “Yeah, I did, I got fucking wet — so come in me, you bastard. I’m in heat — so come in me, knock me up, I want it, come on.“

As if Ichigo could ever resist. He clutched Grimmjow so tightly as he came soundlessly that he left marks and his head spun. That a moment at the peak felt endless; endlessly carnal, swept up in a moment of pleasure and spraying Grimmjow’s pliant insides.

And later, actually pulling out and seeing his come trickle, he said, vaguely terrified, “You weren’t being serious, were you?”

“About what?” Grimmjow said, and rolled his shoulders lazily. The bedsheets around him were ruined. Ichigo’s blankets were in tatters. He looked so content and confident in the chaos he’d made both of Ichigo’s room and Ichigo’s psyche.

“The- pregnant thing.”

The silence was long, and Ichigo felt his stomach drop to his absolute toes.

“Hah!” Grimmjow crowed. “You should see your _face_. Of course not, idiot. But I’ll keep in mind how hard it gets you off.”

Ichigo nearly actually clutched at his heart. “My dick makes me think crazy things–“

“And also,” Grimmjow sat up, wincing slightly. For a moment Ichigo felt concerned, but then Grimmjow was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen. “Congratulations. You’re the cat fucker.”

“I’m- what?”

Grimmjow looked at him expectantly. He seemed uncharacteristically patient.

“Well–“ Ichigo felt like his brain was about to combust from the absurdity. “ _That’s_ why you came in? What the hell.” He searched Grimmjow’ss face, and when he realised he was serious, sighed. At least it’d happened. 

He sat down on the bed and snuck an arm around Grimmjow’s waist. “Guess what,” he confided. “Big secret. I don’t actually care. It’s _you_. Not a cat.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is pure liquid brain regurgitate. 
> 
>  
> 
> i didnt really even end up using the catnip. i just got- distracted. really fits the theme of this whole thing, doesnt it. & finish your freakin' maths, ichigo.


End file.
